


It's Alright, Rodney (I'm Only Bleeding)

by dorcas_gustine



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-11
Updated: 2009-03-11
Packaged: 2017-10-02 06:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorcas_gustine/pseuds/dorcas_gustine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there are spears, Rebels, an Alliance, sci-fi clichés gone bad and John has several revelations despite being unconscious most of the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Alright, Rodney (I'm Only Bleeding)

**Author's Note:**

> Reference to _The Game_ (3x15?) and the 4th season as well, if you can spot them.
> 
> Beta’ed by ur_a_funny_1 on lj.
> 
> This was written for Sweet-Charity, specifically for wickedwords who has the patience of a saint and who asked for SGA, McShep.
> 
> Also, this will probably make no sense at all. (I totally blame my LoM fics for that).

 

  
Suddenly, lots and lots of spears were pointed at them.

“Uh,” Rodney interjected hesitantly. “Is it a bad time to mention that I’m really not good at politics?”

  
*

  
There’s a man looking at him. He tilts his head and squints. It looks rather childlike, despite the leather armor and the studs he’s wearing.

“This is not real, you know?”

And John knows.

  


*

  
Rodney stood looking kind of lost, his fingers tightening and loosening on the handle of the P-90, watching as marines and medical personnel worked around him, assessing the damage, helping with securing the village once again, and taking care of the injured. Not that there were many, the Wraith were hungry these days.

“There was no need for you to come here,” John told him as he reached his side. “As I said, it’s strictly military and medical stuff.”

Rodney wasn’t looking at him, but he was watching everyone and everything around them. “Sam seemed to think differently,” he said, finally looking at him.

“Colonel Carter called you to the meeting because you were somewhat involved in the whole thing and you deserved to know,” John conceded. “However, she didn’t tell you to come here.”

Rodney didn’t reply. “Is Nola-”

John sighed and shook his head. “She’s still missing, but people keep coming in from their shelters. Who knows how many more of them are there? She might be among them.”

“Right,” Rodney nodded, but he didn’t sound too convinced.

  


*

  
Rodney is sitting next to him. He’s wearing a camouflage get-up.

It doesn’t really work; his eyes are really blue.

“I’m not supposed to be here, you know,” he tells John, even if John knows.

Even if John knows that Rodney knows.

“You came on-” John starts, but he trails off when he notices that Rodney isn’t sitting next to him anymore.

He raises his eyes and he sees him standing a few feet from him, he’s wearing the Atlantis standard uniform, a vest and his hands are clutching a P-90.

He’s standing between Colonel Carter and the other blonde woman.

“Nola,” she says.

“You’re missing,” John says, frowning at her.

“But you know where I am,” she says.

“I don’t-” he stops. “There was a bomb,” he says.

Then Rodney, but not really Rodney shouts. “_Wake up_!”

And everything is white.

  


*

  


“-up!” Rodney was shouting. “Oh, good you’re up!” Then, without even stopping to gather some breath, continues, “-are you hurt? Your head is bleeding pretty badly. Why can’t you- Oh, God you’re concussed! How many fingers-”

But John had stopped listening to him, his eyes drawn by Rodney’s fast mouth and his equally fast movements. It was like watching a movie frame by frame, he could see each instant but he couldn’t get to the meaning of them if not observing them all in a sequence.

He liked the other Rodney better, anyway. He seemed somewhat angry with him now, and he preferred blonde women to John, but at least he wasn’t a blurred sequence of stills and rushed words.

At least he wasn’t bleeding.

  
*

  
“There’s something wrong with you,” Leather Man tells him.

“Are you the man who states the obvious?” John asks, and he means it to be sarcastic.

“I am,” Leather Man says, nodding his head.

And then he is not only one, he’s many and they’re all the same.

“I know you,” John says. “You pointed _spears_ at us.”

And suddenly he’s standing back to back with Rodney, spears and men surrounding them as far as the eye can see.

“No, we didn’t,” says Leather Man, everyone disappears and it’s just him again. “We need your help.”

“We?” John asks, and suddenly Leather Man is Bodan, and he’s got many people behind him.

John can’t see their faces, but they’re people of Hellona and Geldar, together.

“Nola,” John says, nodding.

“I am dead,” Nola says, as if she’s always been there, beside Bodan. And then suddenly she is not.

“Nola is missing,” Bodan says. “We need your help.”

“I suck at politics,” Rodney says. “I shouldn’t be here.”

John nods, “I wouldn’t want you to come where there’re bombs.”

  


*

  
His ears were ringing and he shook his head to get rid of the dizziness.

Not that it was a particularly smart move.

He coughed, his throat itching with dust. “What the hell…” he grunted. No broken bones and apart from some scratches and a massive headache he seemed to be alright.

He got up slowly to get his bearings, to understand what the hell had happened.

There were screams, people running around, moaning, and people not moving at all. And the explosion and the blast- It had sounded very much like a bomb, but it wasn’t possible, was it? It wasn’t like Wraith would use _bombs_. Neither would the Replicators, not when they could have wiped the whole settlement out of existence, if not the planet.

Then what--

_Rodney_.

Rodney had been standing in front of him when the bomb exploded and he couldn’t see him anywhere.

“Rodney!” he called over the noise, and only when he tried to call him on the radio did he notice that he’d lost it in the explosion. “Rodney!”

He helped up one of the guys in Keller’s team. He looked dazed and he had a long, bleeding gash on his forehead, but seemed otherwise unharmed.

“_Rodney_!”

  


*

  
“They used _bombs_,” John says. “Don’t tell me you didn’t cheat.”

Rodney doesn’t seem to have heard the last part. “Bombs aren’t everything that there is, you know,” he says.

“What else is there?” John asks, then.

But Rodney’s gone and he’s alone and there’re hands shaking him.

  


*

  
“-for God’s sake,” Rodney grunted, his clenched teeth looked very white in the semi-darkness around them.

“Rodney?” he asked softly, because it was all the voice he had. “What-”

“No time now,” Rodney said. “We have to get out of here.”

“Where-”

“Don’t you- Of course, you don’t remember,” Rodney snorted, and then he raised his voice. It made John cringe slightly, but he supposed it wasn’t really for his sake. “I’m surprised your head didn’t fly through the air with the hit you took.”

“Where are we?” John repeated. He didn’t remember taking any blows, but he was hurting so much he could easily believe it. There were lights in his vision, and his head felt like a big void of pain, like a migraine, only worse. Much worse.

Even in his current state, he thought that wasn’t really a good thing.

“Can you walk?” Rodney asked, his voice coming in short pants.

If _seeing_ was proving to be so hard and painful, John didn’t even want to think about walking. Rodney didn’t wait for his reply, though, he just put John’s arm around his shoulders and he stood up. “We have to go,” he said, but John didn’t even have the energy to scream.

“No, Colonel! Don’t fall asleep.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, but his eyelids were heavy and there were strange and compelling images behind them.

And voices.

“Voices?” Rodney’s alarmed voice exclaimed. “John? Are you- John, stay awake!”

And John tried, because Rodney sounded scared. He tried as hard as he could when a hand gripped his arm.

But he was already too far away.

  
*

  
“Am I dreaming?” John asks.

“Not really,” John replies.

“Am I hallucinating?” he asks again.

“I’m dying,” he replies, instead.

  
*

  
And then Rodney was standing in front of him, covered in dirt from head to feet. He was coughing and he stumbled, but he looked alright and one of the most beautiful sights John had ever seen.

“Rodney,” he said, this time barely a breath, as he reached his side, “you alright?”

Rodney’s eyes seemed even bluer with his face caked with mud and dirt and sweat. “A bomb just exploded!” he exclaimed. “No, I’m _not_ alright!”

He frowned then, a frown John didn’t like in the least. He stumbled again, falling against John and his arms shot up at once to steady Rodney’s weight.

“Uh, I don’t feel too good,” Rodney mumbled against his neck.

John’s right hand came away bloody.

He had just the time to think, _oh God, shrapnel_, when the attack started.

  


*

  
John’s hands are red with blood.

He knows it’s Rodney’s blood, just as he knows that no matter how many times he can try and wash it, it’s never going to come off.

Rodney dies a lot in his dreams.

“I’m not dead,” Rodney says. “You’re the one dying.”

“But you’re the one bleeding,” John says.

“You are, as well,” Rodney says. “Everyone bleeds.”

“You don’t know what it’s like to have blood on your hands,” John says.

Rodney snorts.

John narrows his eyes at him. “Are you supposed to be my conscience?”

“No,” Rodney replies. “Maybe. A dream, a hallucination, your dying vision.”

And suddenly his hands are clean, the blood is all on Rodney, and Rodney is dying.

  
*

  
“Nobody’s dying you stupid idiot!” Rodney panted as he strained under John’s weight.

“You’re not dying,” John whispered in awe, his drooping eyes checked over his uniform. It was dirty and torn in places, but no traces of blood.

“No, I’m not,” Rodney grunted and they moved a few more steps. “And neither are you,” he added a moment later, but it sounded more like a question than a statement.

“I,” John said, “I’ve got a bad headache.”

“Oh, really?” Rodney ground out. “You want an aspirin?”

His feet were more or less cooperative, now that he was more or less conscious. Rodney didn’t seem to think so, though.

“We have to hurry,” Rodney whispered as loud as he dared.

John wondered again where they were, what the hell was going on. He only remembered Wraith, and bombs. And spears.

They were clearly escaping, but from what and to where he really didn’t know.

“Rodney,” he said. “What’s going on?”

“Ella and Telan,” Rodney replied.

“Who?” he frowned. Trying to remember hurt. Thinking hurt. Everything hurt.

Rodney gave him a glance, it was fleeting but John saw fear in there. So this not remembering thing was even worse than he had imagined.

“Idiots,” Rodney replied.

“What?”

“Idiots,” Rodney repeated. “They’re idiots.”

That hardly narrowed it down, as everyone was an idiot in Rodney’s world vision.

“Ah,” John said. He stumbled and Rodney stumbled with him and they fell. “Fu-” he said, and he was out again.

  


*

  
This time everything is silent.

John thinks it’s worse than having Rodney’s blood on his hands.

Because that would mean that Rodney has been there at some point or another.

But now, there’s just nothing.

  
*

  
Rodney burst into the room just as Sergeant Miles of AT-4 was concluding his report.

“-unclear and asked for-”

“_What_?” Rodney barked, as soon as he reached the table and collapsed on a chair. His hair was all mussed up as if he’d just woken up, he was wearing his t-shirt backwards and he was missing a sock.

Everyone in the room except John turned to look at him questioningly. “I’m here, then,” Rodney said. “What?”

Colonel Carter gave him a bemused look. “You took your time.”

“I was _sleeping_,” Rodney ground out. “Do you know how much I sleep? Well, neither do I, because it happens so _rarely_!”

John sat up. “What are you doing here?” he asked, and all heads turned to him and before anyone could go on, he continued, “This is a military and medical operation.”

“A military-” Rodney started. “Well, Lt. Colonel, evidently I’m needed here, since Colonel Carter asked specifically for me.”

And what could John say to that? He nodded and focused his eyes on Colonel Carter.

“What is it, then?” Rodney asked with a sigh. “I’m already up, anyway.”

“It’s the Age of Empire planet, Doctor,” Miles said.

Rodney frowned. “Age of- Oh, for God’s sake,” he rolled his eyes.

“A messenger from M4D-058 found us. They want our help,” Colonel Carter said.

“Help? With what?” Rodney asked, cautiously. Not that John could blame him, the last time they’d tried to help them look how it went. Granted, they thought it was a game, but…

And then the Colonel told Rodney, “Wraith.”

  
*

  
And finally Rodney is there with him.

“I _know_ you weren’t supposed to be there,” John says, anticipating him, so the whole thing won’t start all over again.

Rodney says nothing though, he’s just looking at him.

“What?” he asks.

Silence.

“What do you want from me?”

  
*

  
“-teeth loose,” Rodney was saying, and he’d been talking for God knows how long. “For which I’m blaming you, by the way.”

“Whaa?” he mumbled, blinking to clear his vision and then squeezing his eyes shut again when the light hurt them.

His head wasn’t feeling that good, either.

He moaned. Very quietly, though. And very manly.

“And that- are you okay?” Rodney finally found appropriate to ask. “Oh, God, you have a concussion.”

“Well-”

“_Great_!” Rodney snorted. “You’re going to die and I’m going to be all alone in this cell, which by the way must contain all known and several unknown diseases, and you know I’m not good-”

“At politics, yeah, I noticed,” John groaned.

“I was going to say, at sharing a cell with a dead you, but yeah that too,” it was said with Rodney’s tone reserved for stressful situations. John had gotten used to it, but there was something different underneath it now, a slight hesitation that made him look up.

“Rodney-” he started, trying to sit up, but the dizziness increased in strength and he had to go back to half-lying, half-sitting on the filthy ground.

Rodney put up a hand and shook his head. He was silent for a while, then his eyes met John’s, frowning. “You want me to look at…” he made a vague hand gesture. “Not that I can tell you much more than that you’re hurt.”

“Gee, thanks, Doc, how long do I have left?” he tried for lightness, but Rodney’s hands were on him, careful and sure, if a little trembling. He turned his head slowly to the side, so that Rodney could take a good look at the back of his head. “They took all our equipment,” he said, half-question, half-statement.

Rodney didn’t say anything but after a second he came up with some gauze and started putting pressure on his wound. John looked back at him, startled. “Where did you get that?”

“Pants pocket,” Rodney answered. “You’d think they’d have looked in there.”

“They don’t strike me as evil masterminds, Rodney.”

Rodney gave him a small, smug smile. “No, they don’t.”

“No, you’re right,” he narrowed his eyes at him. “_Your_ people, though…”

Rodney jerked away from him and went to sit on the opposite side of the cell, which didn’t put that much distance between them, but it was enough. “Rodney,” he started after a while. “Look, I-”

“Never mind,” Rodney shrugged.

John wanted to add something else, but Rodney looked very tired, and the large bruise on his cheek was big and shocking even in the dim light. He was tired himself, and the back of his head throbbed in sync with his heartbeats.

He didn’t know how long they’d been here, and he wondered if anyone had noticed they were missing yet.

He had no illusions, though, they probably didn’t know where they were anyway, and with everything that was going on out there…

Then something occurred to him. “Rodney,” he called. “What’s the first rule we set when dealing with people from other worlds?”

Rodney grunted. “Don’t piss people off.”

John nodded. “And the corollary?”

Rodney gave a long-suffering sigh. “Especially if they’re armed.”

“Good, nothing wrong with your memory,” he snorted. “Then what the hell were you thinking, pissing off the people with the spears?”

Rodney gaped at him. “I was trying to divert their attention?” he exclaimed. “So that you could sneak behind the big guy? Didn’t you see my signals?”

So the weird dance he’d been doing…

“_Signals_?” he exclaimed, disbelieving. “Rodney, you were twitching, those weren’t signals!”

“They were perfectly good signals!” Rodney protested.

“All right, all right,” John put up a hand because his head was hurting like hell, and there was no way he was going to survive one of Rodney’s digressions. “But we need to work on this…” he made a vague hand gesture, “…‘silent communication’ thing.”

And then Rodney spoke. “Do you think Teyla and Ronon are-”

“Of course,” he said, firmly.

  
*

  
“I don’t understand,” John says, but Rodney still isn’t replying.

And then Teyla is suddenly there, meeting his eyes steadily, without pretenses, and it makes him even more nervous.

She’s standing in front of him. Or rather, he’s standing in front of her. And his father, and his mother, and his ex-wife, and all of his exes.

“I’m not good at feelings,” John says. “And…stuff.”

Teyla cocks her head sideways. “I understand,” she says, because she does, because she knows him.

“I’m not good with people,” he tries again. “You are.”

Teyla nods. “That is not your place.”

  


*

  
“Let me get this straight,” John said several moments after Telan and Ella had explained the situation. “You want our help.”

Ella nodded. “Yes.”

“Right,” he cleared his voice. “Elaborate.”

He knew he was being deliberately hostile, but they’d been kidnapped and his head was pounding so much he could barely keep his eyes from crossing.

“We apologize for this inconvenience,” Telan said, sitting down at the table and folding his hands on top of it. His posture was almost the same as his and Rodney’s, the only difference was that his wrists weren’t shackled.

“Why, thank you,” Rodney exclaimed, “but I think I’ll change travel agent, I don’t like the accommodations here.”

Telan frowned and exchanged a glance with Ella, then went back to addressing Rodney. “It was necessary, though, we _had_ to talk to you.”

“You could have just called,” John stepped into the conversation.

“And would you have answered?” Ella asked.

“We’ve been wounded, kidnapped and imprisoned in a cell,” Rodney said. “That’s hardly gonna predispose us.”

“And we’re sorry for that, but-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rodney snorted, making chop, chop gestures with his bound hands. It came out surprisingly well. “What exactly do you want from us?”

“You are the Oracles,” Ella said, and John felt Rodney tensing beside him. “They will listen to you.”

John said nothing.

Neither did Rodney.

  


*

  
Rodney is still looking at him, and John almost wishes he was alone again.

“I’m dreaming,” he says, not for the first time. “I’m hallucinating. I’m dying.”

Rodney says nothing.

“And nothing makes sense,” he continues. “This is supposed to be my subconscious, right?”

John knows the subconscious is a tricky thing, but this is starting to suck in a major way. He doesn’t know if he should feel more disappointed or more annoyed.

“What is the point of this?”

“At least you’re something,” Rodney says, suddenly. “What am I?”

  
*

  
“This is _insane_,” Rodney hissed, as soon as they were alone again. “This is absolutely, unbelievably insane!”

John couldn’t help but agree with him. Bodan had related their current situation when they had agreed to help with the aftermath of the Wraith attack, but he had no idea things were this bad.

Of course, he should have had an inkling when he told them that Nola was missing, presumed dead.

“We were already deep into sci-fi clichés, but this-”

“We are, after all, in another galaxy,” John pointed out.

Rodney went on, unperturbed. “This is getting ridiculous!” he exclaimed. “I mean, we now have an Alliance and the Rebels! With capital letters!”

John sighed and leaned against the wall. Then he thought about the slimy substance that covered the bars and the walls, and how he _really_ didn’t want to know the provenience.

He sat up straighter.

“Sometimes,” Rodney said after a long moment, “sometimes I really wish I had a normal life.”

John tried to imagine Rodney leading a normal life, probably teaching in a college somewhere, terrorizing students and assorted staff. He’d probably wear glasses, and he’d put on weight without all the exercise or, as Rodney called it, ‘running for your life’.

He snorted. “No, you don’t.”

And then Rodney turned to look at him, and his eyes were very blue, even in the semi-darkness, and deadly serious.

“Yes, I do,” he said and then he looked away.

John swallowed. ‘And what about me?’ he wanted to ask. Instead he said, “We have to get out of here.”

  
*

  


Rodney is a flow of words that never stops.

Rodney is a brain the size of a planet.

Rodney is human.

Rodney makes mistakes.

Rodney is funny.

Rodney is annoying.

Rodney is sarcastic.

Rodney is eyes wide and blue.

Rodney is puzzling.

Rodney is hands gliding down his back.

Rodney is stumbling, awkward kisses.

Rodney is someone he can’t- Someone he _can’t_.

And this has got to be the weirdest wet dream he’s ever had.

  


*

  
The occasion presented itself when only one man came to get them to the interrogation room. Ella and Telan insisted on calling it Conference Room on the basis that they talked in it, but it was dark and damp and way too near their cells for it to be anything other than an interrogation room.

They dispatched quickly of the guard, this time their ‘silent communication’ working perfectly. Rodney distracted the guard and John was behind him in an instant and he snapped his neck. The man went down without a sound.

Simple as that.

Rodney’s eyes were a bit wide, but his jaw was set as he bent down to strip the guard of his weapons. He gave John the sword, keeping the long knife to himself.

The ease with which he gripped it and then tried a few swings made John’s stomach clench, and he looked away, trying not to think about how good Rodney’s marks at the shooting range had gotten.

  


*

  
“We make things,” Rodney tells John. “And then things make us.”

“And what are you?” John asks.

“I’m a thing you made.”

“You’re Rodney,” John points out, but he knows he actually isn’t.

“No, I’m not,” Rodney replies. “Rodney is not here.”

And in fact John is alone, and this is not the real Rodney.

“See?” John says, suddenly. “I _knew_ you were my conscience.”

“That should concern you,” Rodney says.

But it doesn’t, because this is not-Rodney and Rodney is out there.

And John is still dying.

  


*

  
Their escape is short-lived.

Not that John had had high hopes about it, but it was worth a try since a rescue team would probably not come any time soon. Nobody was likely to know where they were or what had happened. He didn’t even know how long they’d been there; the hours seemed endless inside their little cell.

Gudan, Hellona’s rebel – or rather Rebel with a capital R, as Rodney had pointed out earlier – smirked at them from behind his spear.

God, John hated spears.

“Ella and Telan are wimps,” he said.

‘Wimps?’ John mouthed to Rodney.

Rodney just shrugged.

“I knew you were gonna try to escape,” Gudan continued. “They wanted to try the nice way, now it’s my turn.”

John didn’t really want to find out what his ‘turn’ would entail. He exchanged a glance with Rodney, trying to see if the silent communication thing was working again.

Rodney gripped his knife tighter.

“I would drop your weapons if I were you,” Gudan said.

There were two of them, and five of Gudan’s people. John could take them. With lots, lots of luck.

“Pity you aren’t us, then,” Rodney said, his voice adopting a tone of carelessness John knew couldn’t be anything but faked.

“Escape is useless,” Gudan said. “Don’t make the same mistake as Nola.”

“Nola?” Rodney repeated, tensing. “What about Nola?”

“She tried to escape,” Gudan replied with a smirk. “She didn’t make it.”

John’s throat was suddenly dry. He knew that feeling very well. It tasted like guilt.

“You are crazy, you know that?” Rodney suddenly exclaimed. “You want us to help with what? With this- with your stupid quest? You don’t want the Alliance, but at the same time you get together with Geldar Rebels so you can go back and kill each other? What kind of people are you?”

Gudan’s jaw tightened, as did his grip on the spear.

“Rodney-” he started, ‘shut up’ he wanted to say. But he was right, the whole situation was insane, it was more than sci-fi clichés gone bad, it was _unreal_.

“Geldar is our enemy,” Gudan said. “We cannot bow our heads and accept this… this outrage you call Alliance!”

“A war would destroy you,” John said, carefully, trying to be the voice of reason where reason clearly wasn’t wanted. “And you’re working side by side with Geldar right now, aren’t you?”

“And now that the Wraith attacked, you need unity and stability more than ever,” Rodney continued.

Gudan shook his head. “Now that the Wraith attacked, this is our chance to go back as things were before.”

“You lived peacefully with each other, before,” John said.

“The hostilities only started three years ago,” Rodney continued. “Because of us. We explained it. We’re not the Oracles; we thought it was a _game_.”

“You opened our eyes.”

John opened his mouth to reply to that, even though he didn’t know what to say, but Rodney beat him to it.

“Forget it, then,” Rodney spat. “We won’t help you destroying the Alliance so you can pursue your stupid dreams or whatever.”

And that was the moment John knew everything was lost, that they were screwed, because if the kidnappers realized you just aren’t of any worth to them, you get killed.

Gudan growled and his face was contorted in a snort of rage, his eyes fixed on Rodney and they spoke of terrible things. Of violent things.

Beside him Rodney swallowed audibly and faltered.

John suddenly realized that he wasn’t good at politics, either.

  
*

  


“People are stupid,” Rodney says in his head.

He’s not Rodney, though. He’s not-Rodney.

John ponders if it’s possible to get headaches in dreams. Hallucinations. Whatever.

“That’s the ultimate answer to life, the universe and everything.”

“I thought that was 42,” John says.

Rodney gives him a look. “You think you can be a smartass with your own subconscious? Especially if it’s me?”

“Hah!” John exclaims, triumphantly. “See, I said-”

“Before you finish that, I want you to think about it.”

“About what? People are stupid?”

“Yes,” Rodney says. “Especially you.”

“_Hey_!” John exclaims, because being insulted by his own subconscious certainly isn’t on his top ten list of amusing things.

But Rodney isn’t there anymore, even if he was just not-Rodney, he was still Rodney somehow.

And now he’s alone. Again.

He always ends up alone, sooner or later.

  
*

  
“We got away?” John asked, or tried to, his words coming out bubbling as if he had very little breath left.

Rodney tugged at his arm, dragging him away. John had lost his sword, and Rodney’s knife was red. Everything was red. Red was everywhere.

“Yeah, yeah, come on,” Rodney mumbled.

“We-” he stopped. There was something wrong with him, something very wrong.

“You’d think-” Rodney grunted. “You’d think with a planet this big they could spread out and live far, far away from each other. But no, they- Colonel?”

“People are stupid,” he said, softly. “Rodney, I don’t think- I’m-”

_Sorry._

“Colonel!”

And he lost consciousness, for the last time he feared.

But they had gotten away, Rodney was safe, everything was going to be alright.

  
*

  
“What is this?” Rodney asks.

He’s lying in his bed – John’s bed – completely naked. And the fact that John now knows how Rodney looks when he’s completely naked is terrifying.

“We- We did-” John says.

He’s standing in the middle of the room, Rodney’s – this is Rodney, a memory of Rodney, but at the same time it’s not-Rodney – eyes fixed on him. It’s strange that he feels more exposed than Rodney when he’s the only one wearing clothes.

“Yes, we _did_,” Rodney does air quotes. “But what is this?”

“I- I don’t know,” he replies, stumbling over his words.

“Of course you do,” Rodney says with a snort.

And then everything fades away, and his mouth is suddenly dry.

  


  
*

  
When he opened his eyes everything was white.

“Am I dead?” he asked the ceiling.

But he knew the walls, the low lights and the soft presence inside his head.

And the gruff voice that replied. “No, but you’ll wish you were once the doctors find out you’re awake and come prodding you with sharp instruments.”

John tried not to be pleased at the evident relief he could hear in Rodney’s voice. He failed.

“Rodney,” he said, softly. “I need- I have to-”

“What?” Rodney asked. “You want to go to the bathroom? You need to eat?”

“No,” he said. ‘I had mystic vision’ sounded a bit over the top. “I dreamt I…” and then he stopped, not knowing what he could tell him which he would take seriously.

“You dreamt what?” Rodney asked. “That we were about to die? That wasn’t a dream. I’ll have you know that _I_ dragged your sorry ass to safety and-”

He was probably gonna say something about how his back was never going to be the same again. “Rodney,” John said, opting to cut him off while he still could, while he still had the courage to say what he fe- what he had to _say_. “I have to- I need to tell you-”

And Rodney interrupted him at once, his eyes becoming dark and closed, but they were still blue, so blue. “Don’t say it,” he exclaimed. “Sci-fi clichés remember?”

Jon frowned, because he couldn’t find any possible connection between the things he needed to tell Rodney and sci-fi clichés.

“What?” he mumbled.

“If you say it, someone is going to die. Possibly one of us,” Rodney explained. “Or both, if you consider our lives lately.”

“That’s war movies, Rodney,” John said, and suddenly Doctor Keller was at his side, checking his vitals, asking him questions.

Rodney stepped away from the bed, but John could still see him in the background. He was looking straight at him.

And maybe now they had another day, another week to say the things they needed to say, before their life would be once again full of Rebels and Alliances and other sci-fi clichés.

Or maybe John didn’t need to say anything at all, because Rodney _understood_.

He closed his eyes and this times his dreams were of Atlantis. Of _home_.

 

 


End file.
